Harry Potter and The Crucifix of Callisto
by THESONICVAMPIRE
Summary: Rewrite of Vampire Alliance. Filled with blood, death, sustained horror. You know, all the fun stuff. Rated M for themes and topics, plus, you know, all the death, and the torture, and the... Well, you get the idea. Not for kiddies!
1. Prologue

Prologue.

"Scylla!"

"What is it, Charybdis?"

"The Dark Lord! He... he's..."

"I know, I felt it, my sister. We should celebrate."

The older witch drew a wand, long, gnarled oak wood. She conjured two large glasses of wine, swallowed hers in three quick gulps, and threw the other glass over the face of the other witch, her sister, the evil one. The servant of Voldemort.

Charybdis screeched, glaring at her sister, staring daggers through small droplets of red fluid dripping from her eyelids.

"Stop it!"

"Why? So you can be comfortable? So you can plan an escape?" The older witch stood straight, hair black as the night sky swishing through the air like a knife. "Not this time, Charybdis. Not again."

"Stop taunting me, you heartless bitch, have some compassion, have some pity

"PITY?"Scylla screamed, taking Charybdis by surprise, the blonde woman's eyes widening, fear and unknowing clouding the dark blue eyes of Voldemort's assistant.

~Pity, like the pity you showed to Mother, like you showed to all of those people you aimlessly slaughtered in Hogsmeade? Pity like you showed me?~

~Scylla... please... for the love of the Dark Lord, have some mercy!~

~Oh, grow a sense of perspective you stupid bimbo! That scummy master of yours is gone, what use is his love? I would never grace my worst enemy with your precious god's affection.~

~Shut up, shut up!~

~ can shut up, Charybdis, I'm done with you. Crucio.~

The blonde screamed in agony, her back arching like a bridge, bending her spine unnaturally. She coughed, red spots flying two, three feet high, dropping down onto her face. She begged, pleaded, grovelled. To no avail. The torture continued for almost five minutes, when finally Scylla stopped. Charybdis gasped, panting, greedily sucking air like milk from her mothers breast.

~How does it feel, Charybdis? NICE?Does it feel good?~

~Kill me already, bitch, kill me now. I'm your damned sister!~

The gaze of Scylla sharpened, like a cobra spotting a mouse.

~You're correct, Charybdis. You are damned./But you are not my sister anymore.

Scylla raised her wand, took her weak, pathetic sibling into her sights, and muttered the last words Charybdis Hentera Callisto would ever hear.

"Avada Kedavra."

And the world went green.

AN. SURPRISE! I'm back! After three long months, I'm back. And I'm starting again. New Alliance is guys. This is a total rewrite. Sorry about some of the punctuation, it fucked itself right are all read, responded to and !


	2. Chapter 1

*Dreams are the folly of mankind. For it's when we dream that we suffer the most.*

Harry James Potter awoke with a start, hearing the echoes of the screams resounding inside his head, seeing the green light as if it was in front of his face. He reached his hand up, slowly moving it through the air, until he could see the outline in front of his face. He was drenched in sweat, as per the norm, and he had to change before he went to work. He slowly undressed; wincing as soon as he touched his pale white skin. Well, pale white was an exaggeration. It was more of a nice blue-black colour. His body was thin, anorexic almost, and whenever something hit him at force, he bruised like a peach. Needless to say, he was bruised a lot.

He slowly dressed himself, feeling tears slowly run down his face, as he remembered that he was a useless boy, a bastard, a mistake. His parents hadn't cared about him. His aunt said that his mother only cared about where she could get another fix, another dose. She was addicted to substances, and they controlled her life. His father was a notorious womanizer, a drunkard. He was the cause of both of their deaths and the reason Harry had a thin scar above his eyebrow. Aunt Petunia always said that he did it on purpose. He was the one to drive his father over the edge. Harry Potter was worse than filth in everyone's opinion.

He was lucky that his aunt and uncle were so caring. Any other person would have left him to rot in a home. He stood, banging his head against the eighth stair, same as he did every morning. He grimaced, rubbing his head, and dried his face on the sleeve of his Cousin Dudley's old jumper. He breathed in, feeling the pressure against his bruised ribs. He wondered what would happen today, what would make him feel the back of his uncle's hand again. He checked the wall clock through the slits in his cupboard. 8:26.

Well, that might be a clue.

He opened the cupboard door, wincing against the sun in his face before hurrying into the kitchen, deliberately avoiding the gaze of his cousin and aunt. His uncle, however, was not in the kitchen. He headed to his usual station, only to notice that the pan was empty, but sizzling hot. He looked at the table, seeing a plateful of bacon and sausages in Vernon's place. He turned back to the pan, only to feel a mammoth hand grasp his wrist.

"And what time do you call this, boy?"

"I'm... I'm sorry, Uncle Vernon. I won't do it again, please!"

The walrus of a man laughed, as he always did before administering a beating. He was gargantuan, obese, tall, and with massive hands and feet, Harry was an ideal target for him.

"That's what you said last time, boy. And what happened then?"

Harry's eyes widened as he glanced at the spitting frying pan, remembering the last time that he had woken up late.

"Please, Uncle Vernon, no, please, not that. Please..."

Vernon cackled, and glanced at his wife, who gave him the nod of approval. While Vernon was the physical side of the marriage, Petunia was the one who came up with these schemes. She was a tall woman, almost a head taller than Harry, and she was a sadistic person. Their son Dudley, on the other hand, had grown to feel sorry for Harry over the years, and, while he had to play along to please his mother and father, tried to help Harry as much as he could. He didn't want to get his parents in trouble with the law though; after all those stories about how awful homes were, Dudley couldn't do much.

Vernon nodded, smiled, and pushed Harry's hand against the bottom of the pan.

Harry screamed, feeling the red hot metal sticking to his flesh, tearing and burning it. He tried to pull back, only for Vernon to push down harder. He could smell the flesh burning, could see the smoke rising. After what seemed like centuries he heard Petunia snap at Vernon to stop.

"Why should I, dear?" Vernon shouted over the pained cries of anguish coming from the pitiful boy beneath him.

"If he burns any more, he'll need to go to hospital!" She screeched, gesturing for Vernon to let him go.

Vernon snorted, but allowed Harry to drop to the ground. The small boy hit his shoulder hard on the floor and screaming, the sight wrenched the heart of Dudley, annoyed Petunia and amused Vernon. Petunia shouted at Vernon to open a window, which he did. He then picked up Harry, and headed upstairs. Harry weakly tried to escape, but Vernon was far too strong for him. He knew where they were going. He always knew, but it felt scarier every time. They passed the painted door of Dudley's second bedroom, and the boy's normal bedroom, heading into the master bedroom. Vernon slammed the door, and grabbed Harry. He wrenched down Harry's trousers, as the ritual continued.

"Please... No more... Not again. Please... please...please..." Harry begged, but he knew it was to no avail. He felt the fat man position himself, and wished that there was a magical place, where he could be alone, where he could be safe, where he could be anywhere except there.  
But as the walrus thrust inside of him, and as he screamed, he was reminded of one fact.  
There's no such thing as magic.

**TSV AN**: Well, there we go, guys. It's the new me, the better writing side of me, but I did have help from Ravenous Oranges on this. Please, feel free to review, as they are all read, responded to and appreciated. You'll get a personal response from either me or Ravenous, I promise. Thanks for reading my work. Told you it wasn't for kids.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Dreams

_**"We should fear the truth. The truth is more powerful than any kind of magic."**_

Harry sat, scrunched into a ball in the middle of his tiny bed under the stairs. He was staring at the small slivers of light streaming in through the slits in the cupboard door, watching the dust swirl and spiral through the air. The thoughts of being free, being able to fly through the air, it helped to numb with the pain. He had bled after the last time. All over his Aunts pristine white sheets. That had earned him another beating; another bruise, another scar to add to his growing collection. Harry spotted a small black spider, its legs twitching and contorting around the small insect that had been unlucky enough to stumble upon his web. Harry felt like that. Trapped, alone, and far from where he was meant to be.

He wondered how his life would go from here. Would he ever get a job? Would he ever get married, have children, grandchildren? Was he destined for something else?

No. He wasn't. He would stay here forever, cooking and cleaning, repaying his debt to his Aunt and Uncle. He knew that they were doing the best that they could, but they could only do so much. Harry knew that he needed to buck up and start to assist them.

He was interrupted by a sharp, short knock on the door, too soft for his Uncle, too harsh for his cousin. He uncurled, sitting at attention on his bed.

"Dinner," said the sharp tone of his Aunt. She spoke with utter disdain, pure disgust.

He opened his door, and took in the sight of her. She stood tall, wearing a floral dress, her hair sitting perfectly. She thrust a small bag into his hand, and slammed the door shut, locking it from the outside.

He peered inside the bag. A bag of crisps, a tiny sandwich and a small bottle of water. He grabbed the water first, gulping it down quickly and greedily. He then focused on the sandwich, cheese and pickle on brown bread. It was a welcome sight. He scarfed it down, barely enjoying the taste, simply wanting to tear into his crisps, the highlight of his week so far. He ripped open the bag, reached in a hand, and lifted a huge handful to his wide mouth. He crunched, almost moaning when he felt his taste buds light up. He chewed, swallowed, and repeated, licking any crumbs up from his hands, He then straightened the packet, tilted it and tipped the remainder into his maw. All in all, the meal lasted maybe two minutes, but it was the best two minutes he'd had for a while.

Click.

He froze. That was the sound of the living room door opening. Then there was slow, heavy footfalls upon the linoleum floor. One step, two step, three step, and they came to a halt in front of his cupboard. Then sound of the lock sliding open on the cupboard door. He sat back, resting his head against the cool stone, his body feeling numb. What had he done this time?

"Up," said Vernon, who turned and walked back into the living room.

Harry slowly rose, banging his head on that eighth step. Every time, he thought. He cautiously stuck out his head, and looked at the door. It was still open, so he must be required in the living room for something. He gingerly stepped to the opened door, took a deep breath, and walked in.

He regretted it as soon as he stepped foot inside.

He knew the two men inside the room. He had met them once before, on separate occasions, but he remembered them both. He only knew them as Paul and Kyle, both men were taller than Vernon by a good two inches. They both grinned at him, their yellow teeth slightly parted, allowing him a look at their tongues. Paul's was grey, an effect of twenty five years of smoking. Kyle's was pierced, a smooth bar that moved with every breath. He knew what they wanted. He knew why they were here.

"So, what are you going to be doing today?" asked Vernon, his tone conveying that he couldn't care less.

"Oh, you know, just having a bit of fun!" said Paul, chortling at his own words.

"Well, you've got the right boy for fun, don't they, Harry?" said Vernon. Harry didn't respond. He never did.

"We'll bring him back in the morning, Vernon." said Kyle, a strong Welsh accent coloring his sentence. He took a step toward Harry, his shadow enveloping the boy.

"Don't be too bloody quick, he's nothing but a troublemaker." Petunia retorted, a thin smile stretching across her china doll face. They all laughed, all but Harry.

Kyle placed a hand on his shoulder, and began to steer him out of the room. As Harry glanced back, he noticed a rather large pile of purple notes in Vernon s chubby fist. He saw Paul begin to follow, and sniffed. Kyle opened the front door, and ushered Harry outside into the sun. He winced away from the light, and relied on Kyle's strong hand to guide him to the car. He opened his eyes at the door, and stepped into the battered old Honda. He sat in the middle back seat, and buckled his seatbelt. Paul sat in the passenger seat, and Kyle took the helm of the car. They started to pull away, and Harry glanced at the Dursleys front room. The TV was on. Well, he hadn't expected a tearful farewell.

"So, Harry, do you want to get something to eat?" asked Paul, his beady eyes looking up and down Harry's thin body.

"S-sorry? " He asked, unsure if this was a trick. He looked at Kyle, whose eyes met his own in the mirror, and he smiled.

"Yeah, Harry. Where do you want to go? McDonald's? KFC? Anywhere you want."

"Um... I don't really mind..." He nervously replied, sure that this had to be a trick, a joke, but secretly hoping that it was true.

"Head to McDonald's, Kyle." Paul said, his hand resting on the nape of Harry's neck.

Ten minutes later, Harry sat at a table, awaiting the first proper meal he had had for a long time. He licked his lips when he saw the two men approaching with his food, and he had to restrain himself from grabbing the whole tray. He thanked the two men, tearing straight into his meal. He finished quickly, and saw the two men had followed suit. They stood to leave, and Harry rose, stepped out to the middle of the restaurant, and promptly bumped into a tall boy.

"Sorry! Sorry!" He quickly gasped, and flinched when the boy reached towards him.

"Steady on, mate! Nothing to worry about." the boy said.

Harry was dumbstruck, expecting a quick elbow to the side, or a fist to the face. He smiled at the boy, who winked at him. He opened his mouth to ask the boy his name, but was stopped mid thought by the large figure of Paul, who herded him out of the restaurant and back to the car. He didn't tear his gaze from the fast food restaurant until they were a good five hundred yards away from it. He then twisted back around, and saw the one thing he didn't want to. The hotel, a building archaic in structure and decoration. The place that both these men had taken him before, and where he had never wanted to step foot again.

"Well, Harry, are you ready to have some fun?" leered Paul, a wide grin plastered on his pudgy face.

He stared at the back of the seat, and resigned himself to the fact that he was nothing. He wouldn't ever get married, he wouldn't ever have children, and he wouldn't move on to greater things. Because, at the end of the day, Harry James Potter was not a person, was not a child, was not alive.

Harry Potter was fun.

**TSV AN**: Aaaand let the butthurt begin. After the outrage of the last chapter, I imagine that this will be a lovely meadow of flowers for some of you, while others will scream at me. Yes, just in case you didn't get it, I write about very sick things. Don't believe me? Then click into my stories list and read 'Daycare'. As always, please review, as they are all read, appreciated and responded to. You'll get a personal response. Next chapter up soon. Thank you for reading my work. And now over to my co-writer for a few words.

**Ravenous AN**: Hey guys! Finally I make my appearance. Just to let you all know that I'm helping TSV with this story. I write few chapters here and there, as well as do most of the editing. Our writing styles are pretty different, but to help you out; whoever's note is first will be the person who wrote the chapter. Any reviews will be very much appreciated!


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - School  
_"Standing in a shadow, cast behind a wall made out of fear. The one moment where the sun inside us all shines brightest."_

Dudley stood at his locker, head buried in his hands. He knew what had happened to his cousin, he had known for a long time. Each time the feeling of despair that emanated from Harry grew, a malignant force sickened him to the bone. He'd had enough. It needed to stop.

Dudley exhaled a slow, shaky breath. He wondered what would happen to him after this. He wondered what would happen to Harry. He wondered if he really cared at all. He stepped backwards, closing his locker, smiling softly at the faded scratches covering the metallic face. They all spelled out some form of memory for him, including some none too flattering ones.

He slowly took the hundred yard walk to his classroom. He knew that Miss Paoli would be in the classroom early, she always was. She said it was to prepare lessons for the rest of the day, but in reality it was for a quick nap or a smoke. He almost turned back a few times, almost chickening out, but he knew that he needed to do it, for Harry, for himself. Finally, Dudley reached the door. Looking at the collage of badly drawn pictures, his own among them, he smiled sadly. This could be the last time he ever saw those drawings. He took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.

"Come in!" rang out the sing-song voice of Miss Paoli. She was always cheerful, no matter how badly behaved the kids were in her class.

He took a step inside, feeling his legs wobble under him. He shook his head, steadied himself against a desk, and gulped. No turning back now, Dudley. "M-Miss Paoli? May I t-talk to you?" he stuttered out, feeling his eyes sting. He bit the inside of his cheek, and stood straight.

"Of course, Dudley," said his teacher, sounding concerned. She knew how Dudley usually was, so when he came to her sounding this way, she knew something was troubling him.

"Well... y-you know Harry? My... cousin?" said Dudley, his voice cracking when he thought of his cousin, poor, defenceless, scared.

"Yes. What about him?" Miss Paoli said, gesturing for Dudley to sit opposite her. He did so, looking relieved to be off of his feet. She had a gut feeling that she wasn't going to like what she heard.

"W-well, he's... being hurt… A lot."

"What do you mean, Dudley? Is somebody bullying him? Is it one of the people in this class?" She asked, her expression kind, her brain racing. What was going on?

"No, it's... it..." He faltered, his speech dying off in his mouth. She looked at him, silently prompting him to continue.

"Dudley, we can help. There are people who can help, but we need to know what is happening." She implored, smiling a comforting, warm smile for him.  
"Sometimes... when Harry does something bad... my dad h-hits him really hard. And when he makes a m-mistake, he gets hurt really bad."

Her heart cracked. This poor, terrified boy was torn between his love for his cousin and his love for his parents. He had plucked up the courage to talk to her, to tell her what was going on at home.

"Are you sure, Dudley?" She spoke, her tone soft, like a mother talking to a child inside her stomach, hoping, begging that the child was mistaken.

"Y-yes!" Dudley sobbed, his voice breaking, the tears flowing at last. She took her phone out of her pocket, and sent an urgent text to Principal Marchmont. She texted fast, making several errors, but getting the basic message across; Get down here, now.

"Dudley? Look at me, please." The crying boy didn't respond. She reached over the desk, resting her hand atop his. He slowly met her gaze, his blue eyes swimming.

"It's not just my Dad; my M-mum does it too. And they s-send him away with all of t-these strange men for money."

She almost gasped in horror. The Dursleys, the epitome of normal, were involved in something as horrible as this? She stood, taking the boys hand and standing him up with her. He looked at her, having to tilt his head slightly. She enveloped him in a comforting hug, deliberately turning him away from the door. She met the gaze of her boss, who entered the room after a small amount of hesitation.  
"Mr Marchmont? Could you phone the police, please, and tell them to go to Number 4, Privet Drive? They're to look for Harry Potter."

He studied her for a moment, and nodded. He turned and exited the classroom. She slowly let go of Dudley, watching the boy fall back a little, and then steady himself. She looked at him, and smiled.  
"That was a very brave thing that you just did, Dudley. Very brave. Would you like a cup of tea?" She asked. He nodded, snivelling, and she turned, heading to the door of the classroom. "I'll be right back, Dudley. I promise."

He nodded, wishing that he could run away; take it all back, but something told him that he had done the right thing.

She turned, took a step outside of the class and walked into the staffroom, situated directly across the corridor. She grabbed a cup and filled it with tea leaves. She added three spoonful's of sugar, prepared the tea, and took it to Dudley, who was staring off into space. She watched him drink it, making sure that he drank it all, and told him to go to see the nurse. She accompanied him to the door, and watched him lumber slowly off. She walked over to his cup, picking it up to take to the sink. Then she paused. When she looked at the tea leaves at this angle, it looked like a large black dog. Strange.

* * *

Harry was sleeping when the police arrived. The Dursleys had told them that he should be at school, and that they would talk to him when he got home, but the officers had heard him cough in his slumber. One of them, Police Constable Erick Todd stepped outside of the room, moved to in front of the cupboard, and unlocked it. What he saw made him reconsider if there was a God.

The boy was bruised, cut, scarred, and drenched in urine and sweat. The whole cupboard stank of fecal matter, and the boys breathing was shallow, almost as if he didn't want to be breathing. He looked so defenceless.

Erick pulled out his radio. His hands shaking, he raised it to his mouth. "Chief? It's PC Todd. Get a Code Six-Five down to Number Four Privet Drive. We need a paramedic for a small child, and we may need another two for his relatives."

"How many are injured, Erick?" The crackly response came through.

"One so far. Though, I'd send those extra paramedics, just to be on the safe side."

"Understood."

He moved back to the living room, and glared at the fat man and the thin woman opposite him.  
"If I were you" he said, his voice shaking "I would go into protective custody when you get to the prison. Because I am going to tell every single murderer, rapist and con in there about what I've seen here. They will be sickened by it."

Vernon Dursleys eyes went wide, as the police officer's glare poured pure hatred into him.

"Uncle Vernon?" A small voice said from the corner, meek and fearful. The police officer turned to see the small child from the cupboard standing in tatty clothes, looking as terrified as a rabbit in the headlights. "Can I have something to eat, please?" That was as far as the boy got, before his legs gave out and he fell to the floor.

"I hope you enjoyed yourself, Dursley," Said PC Todd, disgust evident in his voice, "you'll be going through this soon enough."

And as the sound of sirens roared onto Privet Drive, Vernon and Petunia Dursley wished, for the very first time, that Lily and James Potter were still alive.

**TSV AN:** Wow, you guys must feel loved. Two chapters in less than 48 hours? I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and feel free to review, as they are all read, appreciated and responded to. Cheers.

**Ravenous AN:** Hey guys! Just a footnote here; the time frame of the story has been changed to more modern times. Thus explaining why the teacher was using a mobile. Hope you enjoyed, this hopefully more optimistic chapter.


End file.
